Deepest Regrets
by Void
Summary: Dumbledore must write to a student's parents following a tragic incident at the school. Marauder-era AU.
1. To Mrs Lupin

She held the parchment in front of her. She couldn't read the words. Green. His ink was green.

 _Sincerest apologies. Deepest regrets._

But what the parchment actually read was – "I have done all I can, Mrs. Lupin."

What the parchment actually read was – _Your son is going to die._

A hearing. Her little boy behind silver bars. Whimpering. Her own whimpering.

She shrieked through her damp and trembling hand; the parchment burst into flame and singed her fingers, her whole body quivering with rage.

Her husband ran in from his study to see what was the matter.

 _Dumbledore, I trusted you!_

She had no words, no speech within her to answer his gentle concern. She faced him with gravestones in her eyes.

 _Romulus T. Lupin, 1960 – 1967._

Remus J. Lupin, 1960 – 1976.

An executioner's blade, a wolfkiller's grin in her eyes.

xXxXx


	2. To Mrs Snape

Her husband received the post. He read the letter, then tossed it onto the desk in front of her. "Your son is dead."

His voice was gruff; not cold, not mocking. It meant he was going to take action; and for once, she was not going to be the object of his assault.

The time it took her to think this was time she didn't spend reaching for the paper, time she didn't spend scanning the brief (brief?!) note. Even before she took it crisp in her fingers, even before she turned it toward her, she could see that it was brief.

A werewolf. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her visage calm. It meant that she was enduring. It meant that she would have to be pushed farther before she began to scream and fight.

A werewolf. It was almost ludicrous. What was a werewolf doing at the school?

Her son was dead.

Lavinia felt tears and found she had no will to stop them.

Her husband paced. For once, he seemed not to notice her so vulnerable.

xXxXx


	3. To Mrs Black

Kreacher dealt with the owl. Mrs. Black had other concerns. That one of those concerns was a progressive illness that made every movement a twinge of agony… She had borne children. She had grown up playing with pain. Incurable sickness was _beneath_ her concern.

But she didn't get up from her table, and Kreacher brought in the mail.

"From Hogwarts, Ma'am," he breathed, a glint in his eye that they both understood, though of course she only barely acknowledged the elf.

 _Sirius._

She stood up to read the letter. Better that way. Prove she was strong. She could take whatever her son could throw at her, _raise_ that boy to be the wizard he was meant to be.

The muggle-loving headmaster's words wove around and attempted to disguise the truth, but Mrs. Black could see it as clearly as if it were splashed across the parchment in fresh, glistening blood.

 _Sirius has killed someone._

Well. It was bound to happen eventually.

Perhaps now, the boy would learn some responsibility.

There would be an inquest. Mr. Black could deal with that. Their name still held considerable sway; their _alliances_ held sway in the Ministry.

And she would hold Sirius's deliverance over him and finally, finally, he would come to accept his role as Black heir.

She looked again at the letter.

Snape. A pureblood name. Just like Sirius to take it out on his own.

xXxXx


	4. To Mr and Mrs Potter

"To Mr. and Mrs. Potter:

Mum, Dad, two of my friends are in trouble. They killed a boy. They killed Severus Snape.

It's really Sirius's fault, but he didn't know what he was doing at the time. He doesn't think ahead. Remus is a werewolf. Sirius told Snape how to get to him. He was afraid Snape was going to expose Remus. I know it doesn't make sense. It made sense to Sirius at the time.

Remus is a werewolf and the Ministry will decide to put him down. You have to stop them. Sirius is going mad. They're going to call him in for questioning, too.

Remus had nothing to do with it. He didn't even know what had happened until the morning when he woke up in a cage.

I think Sirius really will go mad if they kill him.

Please do what you can.

Your son,  
James Potter."

xXxXx


	5. Lily

In sixth year, when James pushed a note over to her that said "Do you think it's my fault that Snape is dead?" staring straight at Binns and looking for all the world like he was thinking about his latest quidditch match, Lily spent endless seconds trying to decide what to say.

Because deep in the core of James Potter, in the most secret source of his arrogance, his absolute confidence in himself and the world, there was a crack.

She wanted to say "No" and watch the warm surety seep back into his eyes.

She wanted to say "YES" and watch his prideful soul break open, watch the careless smirk vanish forever from his face.

When she slipped the note back, it read, "You have to decide for yourself." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his sharp nod, grim acceptance of the truth.

And she knew she would love him even if he had delivered Snape to the wolf's jaws himself.

xXxXx


End file.
